altered states
señor member
I'm pretty adventurous when it comes to eating, and sometimes I suffer for it. I was at a fancyish place in Mexico City with Mexican friends and they ordered what I thought I heard as "huevos de hormigas" - ant eggs. I asked them to clarify and indeed that's what it was. (Pre-colonial natives all around Mexico, starved for protein, ate all kinds of insects, and today in Oaxaca state and elsewhere you still see vendors selling fried crickets from street stalls.) Anyway, the eggs were actually egg sacs, white and sort of blobby, the size, shape, texture and color of 1 well-chewed stick of Wrigley's peppermint gum. They were pan fried with garlic and such so I figured I'd give it a shot. I cauterized my mouth with a few sips of tequila and I wrapped a bunch of the thingies in a taco and down it went. All was fine until about 15 minutes before the meal was over. Suddenly I was itchy all over and my face felt like it was burning. I was very drunk and stoned at this point, but I kept it under control until I was back in my friends' car and I told him what was going on. On the way back to my friends' house, we stopped at a pharmacy and got some heavy-duty antihistimines. I figured I would rather go die on their couch than in a Mexico City hospital. When we got home, my face looked like a tomato and I was using a knife edge to scratch myself, more itchy than I'd ever been in my life. I took one pill at first, nervous about the alcohol and weed, but 15 minutes later it was getting worse so I took a second. Fifteen hours later I woke up, a bit scratched up, but totally fine. To this day, my obviously guilty friend swears it was the tequila rather than the huevos de hormigas.
Another time, this same friend and I were going to see some ruins outside the city. He said that we could stop at a bakery for my "gringo" breakfast and he would go to a taqueria at the same time and get his. I was in the mood for a croissant, but I figured to save time I'd go with him. We wound up in a hole in the wall where he ordered for both of us, regular old tacos al pastor for me and something I, again, couldn't translate for him. "You won't like this," he said. We ate a bit and with one taco left each, I asked again what he was eating. He just reached across the table and pushed it towards my mouth. "Here," he said. "I can't explain." I took a bite and it was disgusting. He was right. "What the hell is that?" I asked. "It is the pig's, um, I don't know in English..." He began pointing toward his privates and I assumed the worst. "Dick?" I asked. "No, the woman, you know where the baby lives..." Yes, the bastard fed me a pig's uterus.
Another time, this same friend and I were going to see some ruins outside the city. He said that we could stop at a bakery for my "gringo" breakfast and he would go to a taqueria at the same time and get his. I was in the mood for a croissant, but I figured to save time I'd go with him. We wound up in a hole in the wall where he ordered for both of us, regular old tacos al pastor for me and something I, again, couldn't translate for him. "You won't like this," he said. We ate a bit and with one taco left each, I asked again what he was eating. He just reached across the table and pushed it towards my mouth. "Here," he said. "I can't explain." I took a bite and it was disgusting. He was right. "What the hell is that?" I asked. "It is the pig's, um, I don't know in English..." He began pointing toward his privates and I assumed the worst. "Dick?" I asked. "No, the woman, you know where the baby lives..." Yes, the bastard fed me a pig's uterus.
